


Heat Transfer

by deepsix



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Blanket Fic, First Time, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-22
Updated: 2009-05-22
Packaged: 2017-10-04 10:48:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepsix/pseuds/deepsix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fandom cliche number whatever: blanket-sharing porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat Transfer

Jim was still cold. He rolled over again and sighed. He didn't really think it was fair that Spock could sleep when he couldn't, and he'd been doing his best to redress that totally unbalanced state of affairs.

"Spock," he said again, speaking right in Spock's ear this time. "I thought these things were insulated to zero kelvin."

Spock barely stirred in response. "I believe perfect insulation is only possible when the unit is properly sealed," he said, as though that wasn't already obvious.

"I know," Jim said, and then stopped. He didn't really need Spock explaining the science of a regulation sleeping kit, but probably telling him to shut up wouldn't be the best idea either. It was Spock's kit, after all. "I'm just cold," he explained, for what was probably the tenth time since night had fallen. It wasn't sounding any less whiny as the night progressed.

"Perhaps it would help if we changed our respective positions," Spock said, turning his head, and Jim could see the faint outline of his profile in the dim light. He looked impassive, strange. Mostly he sounded tired. It had been a long day, with the botched transport and the disastrous non-meeting and the stellar flare and the disrupted communication signal.

"You saying you want me to be the little spoon?" Jim grinned, though he doubted Spock could see it.

"I believe such a position would help in remedying your condition, yes," Spock said. He rolled over, sending a fresh draft of cold air under the blanket. Jim could feel it prickling at his ribs, his neck, and shivered. This sucked.

He braced himself and rolled over as well.

And immediately tensed. Either Vulcans had a different etiquette on spooning between friends, or else Spock just didn't care. Spock was warm-- hot, even, and a shudder twisted through Jim as Spock pressed against his back. He felt relaxed, surprisingly loose for someone usually so rigid, and Jim hesitated. This wasn't normal, not for Spock.

As they settled, Spock put a hand on Jim's stomach, thumb resting along the line of his ribcage. Even that was warm, and Jim resisted-- he wanted to touch Spock back, clutch at his warmth to regain the feeling in his own hands. But it was weird.

He had only started to relax back into Spock's embrace when he realised what the weirdest part was:

Spock was totally turned on.

And Jim was totally not an idiot.

"Spock," he said.

"Yes, captain."

"Spock," he repeated, and tipped his head back. He could feel Spock's breath on the back of his neck, on the shell of his ear. Even Spock's breath was hot, and Jim just _wanted_.

Finding Spock's mouth was awkward; Jim couldn't get the angle, and his lips touched Spock's chin, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. Jim kissed him blindly, lips on unseen skin until he found Spock's mouth, soft and slack and unresponsive against his. But Spock _was_ moving -- Jim could feel Spock's fingers tightening on the front of his shirt, leaning into him.

Jim shifted, turning his body slowly as he kissed Spock. As the angle changed, he pressed harder, lips slipping against lips, breaths dampening their mouths until slick. Spock wasn't kissing him back, not yet, but he kept touching, kept his fingers tangled in Jim's shirt, the palm of his hand sliding over the curve of Jim's stomach as Jim moved.

Turning over again brought more cold air with it, but Spock closed the gap again, angling his body into Jim's. Jim's skin tingled with it -- the proximity to Spock, Spock's heat, Spock's mouth, Spock's hands. Jim reached for him, one hand sliding up Spock's arm to rest at his shoulder, fingers seeking out the warmth at Spock's neck as he kissed him. His lips were beginning to feel raw, overexposed, strange even though Spock remained impassive. He tipped his head, angling his mouth against Spock's again, and slid his fingers up again, into Spock's hair at the back of his neck.

Spock stilled, and very slowly let go of him.

Jim pulled back, only enough that he could still feel Spock's breath, Spock's nose touching his. "What?" he said. "Come on. I want --"

"I know," Spock said. His voice sounded uneven, but sure, quietly certain of what Jim was asking. "You would like me to touch you."

"Yeah," Jim said. "I would."

His fingers tightened in Spock's hair, and this time Spock's mouth was soft and slick and _moving_, lips curving against Jim's, tongue hot and wicked in Jim's mouth. Jim was suddenly, painfully turned on; the low burning of sensation suddenly crystallizing into a burst of arousal. He wanted, so badly, for Spock to touch him again, put his hands back on him, slipping under his clothes, touching skin, touching _him_. He rutted against Spock, pushing their bodies together, Spock hot and hard against him.

Then Spock touched him, fingers tracing down Jim's side until they came to rest on his hip, and Jim thought -- _yes_. His skin was hot, so hot, and Jim twisted until Spock's fingers skittered under his clothing, brushing over the skin where his shirt rucked up. Jim needed -- wanted -- wanted so badly, and suddenly it wasn't enough, to touch him kiss him shove his hips against him, press their cocks together within the cocoon of the blanket.

He rolled, and pulled Spock on top of him.

"I want you to touch me," Jim said, and shuddered as Spock settled into their new arrangement. He'd slid one leg over, straddling Jim, and he had one hand braced against the floor, just above Jim's shoulder. It was almost better like this -- with Spock's weight on top of him, pressing him down, holding him there with his hips, thighs braced against thighs. Jim reached for him, palm sliding up Spock's thighs, thumb settling into the join of his body. He wanted to touch everything -- Spock's dick, his ass, the curve of his hips, the expanse of his back -- but he settled on reaching for the placket of Spock's pants, unbuttoning, unzipping slowly enough that Spock could have stopped him if he'd wanted.

He didn't.

Spock was hard, and Jim heard his sharp intake of breath when Jim touched him, palming his cock. Jim wanted -- but mostly he wanted Spock to touch him, maybe touch them both, jerk them slowly in the dark.

"Come on," Jim murmured, and leaned up to find Spock, unable to judge how far away he might be in the dark. Spock found him instead, mouth sliding over Jim's, and set to undoing Jim's pants one-handed, still braced above him. He felt incredibly sure, fingers not even fumbling as he reached for Jim's cock, and Jim tore away long enough to moan, open-mouthed, as Spock's hand closed around him.

Jim couldn't even control it after that, couldn't concentrate on anything but the slide of Spock's hand, the slickness of his mouth, the rhythm of his hips as he pushed against him. He could feel Spock shifting above him, rearranging limbs as he stroked Jim's cock, and finally _there_ \-- Spock pressing his dick against him, fingers circling them both, and Jim lost it.

He clung to Spock, hands braced against Spock's shoulders. He could feel tremors in the muscles of Spock's back, stuttering down his spine, and Jim couldn't tell, couldn't read it, but he thought -- oh god, he was so turned on.

Jim's kisses were getting sloppier, he could tell -- less finesse, more sharing of breath, sharing of mouths. His skin felt on fire, absorbing the heat of Spock's hands, his cock, his mouth -- and Jim just couldn't.

It felt too good -- too hot -- too much, and the rhythmic thrust of Spock's dick against his, the measured stroke of his hand, the calculated depth of his kiss -- Jim tightened his fingers on Spock's shoulders, mouth slack, and came, and came.

Spock seemed to hesitate then, as though waiting. His fingers loosened around Jim's cock, but Jim reached for his wrist as he moved to turn away. Spock's pulse was hammering under his fingers.

"Wait," Jim said. "Hold on --" and shifted under Spock, realigning their hips. He guided Spock's hand to his dick, still hard, hot, and slid their fingers together to stroke him. "I wanna feel you," Jim said, soft. And he could -- could feel the heat of Spock's arousal, the tremble in his fingers, the control that Spock had slowly, slowly slipping. Jim groaned, and as he reached to kiss him again, fingers settling on the back of Spock's neck, Spock stilled.

Jim felt him, silently, as he came.

Jim lay back, suddenly tired. The floor was hard, and colder than he'd remembered; colder than he'd noticed in the last while, anyway. When Spock got off him it was colder still, and Jim could feel his sweat and come cooling in the air. It was really pretty gross, and was about to say so when Spock tossed something at him.

"An emergency hygiene kit," Spock said, by way of explanation. "I believe it may be of some use."

Jim grinned at him in the dark. "That's why I keep you around."

They were quiet for a moment, cleaning up and re-settling under the blanket. Apparently Spock wasn't even going to go for pretense, as he curled around Jim again, warm and steady against Jim's back.

"Captain," Spock said, after a moment. "I am sure that communications will be restored by morning."

"You could call me Jim," he said, instead of answering.

"I think that would be inappropriate," Spock said. His voice was quiet, his breath soft on the back of Jim's neck. Jim wondered if this was what passed for Vulcan pillow talk.

He turned and looked at Spock, and Spock's eyes glinted, inscrutable. Jim said, "I think you're inappropriate," and settled back against him the dark.


End file.
